“My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun” —Shakespeare Sonnet #130
If he thinks my eyes are not like the sun, He must think someone else’s are, And her lips are red as coral, I suspect. And on her head grows flaxen silk Not like the dark wires that stick out of mine. He probably hears tunes in her voice, Though he says he loves to hear me talk. She, no doubt, exhales expensive perfumes, When he gets his nose next to her mouth. He must think she glides along the earth like Athena, But I just plod the ground in my flat shoes. If his love for me is so goddam rare, Why do I come out sounding like Just another one of his shittin’ sonnets?
Dr. Johnson’s Etymological Error: From Rime to Rhyme
In the 18th century, Dr. Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) made an etymological error that poets, scholars, critics, and editors even today continue to perpetuate. Johnson incorrectly surmised that “rime” was a derivative of “rythmos”; thus he altered the spelling from “rime” to “rhyme.”
Professor Laurence Perrine’s “Rime”
In 1956, an English professor at Southern Methodist University wrote and began publishing his textbook, Sound and Sense: An Introduction to Poetry. Professor Laurence Perrine’s book has enjoyed such success that it has never been out of print, reaching its 15th edition in 2017.
In his first nine editions, Professor Perrine employed the spelling “rime” in his discussion of that literary device.
However, beginning with the 10th edition, the new editors of the book, Thomas A. Arp and Greg Johnson, in their postmodern wisdom, succumbed to Dr. Johnson’s error and altered Professor Perrine’s spelling to “rhyme.”
In capitulating to Dr. Johnson’s etymological error, Arp and Johnson, are disavowing the wisdom of such literary geniuses as William Shakespeare (Sonnets 16, 17, 32, 38, 55, 106) [1] and Samuel Taylor Coleridge (The Rime of the Ancient Mariner) [2].
The erroneous spelling now employed in Perrine’s classic is especially galling because the Perrine textbook introduced several generations of students, including my own, to the joys of poetry.
Unfortunately, the Perrine editors are not the only ones imposing this etymological error upon the world of poetry. Many (more likely most) editors continue to insist upon the erroneous form.
Editorial Choice
It is likely that most non-literary readers currently believe that the term “rime” labels only a kind of ice, but too many poets, writers, printers, editors, and publishers insist on the Johnsonian error in the spelling of that superlatively fine English word in its original form.
Some editors may consider the term interchangeable, but many others actually insist that the awkward “rhyme” be used. For decades, editors and publishers have inclined toward Dr. Johnson’s error “rhyme” to the original pristine spelling “rime.”
For example, because I continue to employ the original spelling instead of the Johnsonian error on my poem commentaries at HubPages, I was required by the HubPage editors to offer the following disclaimer in my articles that use that term:
Please note: Dr. Samuel Johnson introduced the form “rhyme” into English in the 18th century, mistakenly thinking that the term was a Greek derivative of “rythmos.” Thus “rhyme” is an etymological error. For my explanation for using only the original form “rime,” please see “Rime vs Rhyme: Dr. Samuel Johnson’s Error.”
While the soft-censorship editors of HubPages did allow my choice, they still insisted that I explain my seeming idiosyncrasy.
I became acquainted with a poet/editor on a listsesrve discussion group. I decided to interview him and post the exchange in a HubPages article. Before publishing the online interview with a poet and editor, I conducted a written pre-interview conversation with the individual. In his message, he employed the term three times all with Johnsonian error “rhyme.”
After I suggested that that usage was the result of an error, sending him the resource for my suggestion, he just shrugged it off, insisting that getting published is more important than historical accuracy of individual words.
While it is bad enough that even one editor holds such a view, it is unfortunate that this editor’s attitude sums up that of most editors regarding this issue. However, this man also considers himself a poet, not only an editor, but in this case his editor’s hat sat more firmly upon his skull than the poet’s.
Poets used to be known for their insistence upon accuracy in word and image employment—not for what the collective may think of their usage.
(Food for thought: This poet/editor also offered the following bizarre opinion about poetry writing in general: “Writing is a political act even if you’re consciously trying ‘not’ to be political. So poetry can be … no, ‘must be’ … used for activism.” While some might think the idea that poetry must promote activism is the height of balderdash, others will likely remain true believers.)
(I have deliberately avoided using the poet/editor’s name, hoping to avoid a complication neither of us needs. Beside the point of mentioning him was not for his sake but for the issue of the use of the inaccurate spelling “rhyme.”)
Origin of the Term “Rhyme”
The Old English term “hrim” had morphed into the form “rime” in Middle English, the period during which Geoffrey Chaucer was writing; the term remained “rime” through Shakespeare’s era, on through the Victorian period, until the 19th century.
English printers then began spelling the perfectly fine English term “rime” as the erroneous “rhyme.”
Those ill-advised printers allowed themselves to be led astray by Dr. Samuel Johnson, a scholar with a stellar reputation, who was most noted for his 1755 classic work, A Dictionary of the English Language.
But Johnson was wrong on this count; he mistakenly surmised that the term “rime” was a Greek derivative of “rythmos,” and thus pronounced that the accurate spelling should be founded on that derivation.
Shakespeare Sonnets’ Use of “Rime”
The Shakespeare writer always spells that term “rime” in the sonnets, which were first published in 1609 [3]. The sonnets were composed two centuries before the Johnsonian etymological error was inducted into the lexicon.
Unfortunately, contemporary readers will find that many editors have altered the spelling [4] of Shakespeare to comply with the good doctor’s error.
Shakespeare! The world’s foremost literary genius! The bard for all time. Yet, modern editors think they are equipped to correct the spelling of the most admired poet of the Western world.
Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
Most search engines point to the Coleridgian original spelling of “rime” in his classic work, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Some editors, however, have succumbed to the Johnsonian error—even a page from the Gutenberg Project uses “rhyme”—but most editions of Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner keep the spelling “rime.”
All of the authoritative texts of Coleridge’s poem, including those featured at Poetry Foundation [5], Bartley.com: Great Books Online [6], and Academy of American Poets [7], present the poet’s original spelling “rime.”
How does Coleridge’s choice go relatively unscathed, but Shakespeare has to be corrected? Coleridge’s title was not indicating a type of ice; it was referring metonymically to the poem itself whose 626 lines are displayed in an ABCB rime scheme.
Why I Prefer Rime, Not Rhyme
As a poet, poetry commentator, and general seeker of truth and accuracy, I always employ the spelling of “rime” for two main reasons:
It goes against my conscience to participate in furthering the prolongation of an error.
A fundamental rule of all written discourse dictates brevity in use of language: the first rule of writing instruction consists of the admonition never to use a big word, when a small one will work as well, and never employ two words when one will work.
Simply compare by sight the two terms:
rime and rhyme
“Rime” remains a form of crisp, clear, four letters without any superfluous mark.
“Rhyme” displays with one more letter, which is a silent “h” and a “y” standing in place where the more convenient and identically pronounced “i” should stand. Thus “rime” is decidedly the better choice than the awkward “rhyme.”
The unfortunate perpetuation of Johnson’s etymological error will likely keep on littering the landscape of poetry with its ugly spelling “rhyme,” while the clean, crisp spelling “rime,” in my opinion, should be regaining its place in the literary world of poetry
Insults for My Opinion
I have received a handful of insulting messages, castigating me for how stupid I am to be insisting on the originalist position on this term. Yes, I understand the notion that because the error is so widely accepted, it would engender untold pain and heartache to try to alter it.
As I earlier explained, so many editors have succumbed to this error that too writers who seek publication have no choice but also to succumb.
However, I am also aware that language does change over the centuries, but those changes are not based on errors; instead, they are based on convenience that usually shortens words instead of lengthening them and adding silent letters.
The following insightful suggestion from Lucy Sherriff’s “11 Spelling Changes That Would Make The English Language WAY Easier” [8] includes the following:
6. rhyme to rime Poetry and music lovers know how much trouble this word can cause. With y taking the role of a vowel and h making a ghostly appearance, the word rhyme would be greatly improved by the alternate spelling rime. In fact, rime was the original spelling of the word, changed in the 17th century by association with the Latin word rhythmus. (my emphasis added)
Although Sherriff’s historical claims are a bit off (see “Rhyme, Ryme, or Rime“) [9], her main point is spot on.
Diminishing Device Usage
Poetry long ago ended its love affair with the poetic device known as “rime.” And as I offer commentaries on earlier poems that do employ that device, I am often not required to speak about that particular issue, unless it has some direct influence on meaning or aesthetic pleasure.
From now on, unless a rime scheme, or other use of rime, remains a salient feature of the poem influencing meaning or aesthetics, I plan to ignore rimes and rime-schemes.
Also, “rime” has long been my least favorite poetic device because it has so often been employed in ways that blur meaning rather than clarify it. If choosing a “rime” word becomes more important than choosing a more exact word for its meaning, then the poem suffers.
I believe that it has become obvious that the choice of rime-over-meaning happens too often, particularly with postmodern poetry, even as most postmods do eschew rime.
Masters such as the Shakespeare writer, Emily Dickinson, and James Weldon Johnson have been able to use “rime” with great success to enhance rhythm as well as meaning.
But the postmodernists put an end to any serious focus and genuine aesthetics in literary works. That they often abstain from riming actually becomes a positive feature of their babble.
Ultimately, I am willing to concede that the issue is not worth staging a campaign to alter minds, hearts, and thus usage. But for those times in which it becomes necessary to address the issue, I will continue to employ “rime” not “rhyme,” simply because it is the original and, to my mind, the accurate form.
Sources
[1] William Shakespeare. “Shakespeare’s sonnets: being a reproduction in facsimile of the first edition, 1609, from the copy in the Malone collection in the Bodleian library.” Sonnets 16, 17, 32, 38, 55, 106. Internet Archive. Accessed April 4, 2021.
